


Unexpected

by AmputeeTrainee



Series: Pigmalion [2]
Category: Hellsing, Hellsing Ultimate
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Hellsing Pre-Canon, Hellsing Ultimate OVA, Millennium | Letze Battallion, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmputeeTrainee/pseuds/AmputeeTrainee
Summary: After being invited to Poker Night, Rip van Winkle isn't ready to retire yet.





	Unexpected

BANG!

In the distance, a metal pan sounded like a gong as it struck the tiled floor and skittered away into the laboratory. Dok’s eyes cracked open at the commotion. The dark, blurry ceiling of his makeshift bedroom came into view.

He’d retired to bed not long ago, having caught his head bobbing listlessly to his chest while sitting at the desk, trying to review notes. Considering the grogginess that still lingered, he couldn’t have been asleep for long. The windowless gloom of the lab offered no clues about the current time.

He glanced toward the separate gurney by his feet, eye narrowing at the glowing-red lit numbers on the clock. He squinted harder. Without glasses, the numbers remained fuzzy, but it was at least around two in the afternoon. Closing tired eyes, he uttered an annoyed groan.

Unseen shoes tapped against the floor; someone was clearly in the laboratory. Not long ago, the sound of an intruder would have made him leap out of bed, ready to incinerate anyone who dared to wake him outside of office hours without an emergency. Instead, he only sighed as another crash sounded followed by a tell-tale giggle. The tinkle of broken glasses echoed as the pieces of a shattered beaker, test tube, or whatever, scattered across the tile.

After whisking back the curtain, the blurry, sharp-toothed figure tiptoed on wobbly legs into his room. Honestly, why even bother to be quiet now?

“What are you doing?” He snapped.

The lanky shadow jumped, not having anticipated him being awake, and tripped over their own feet. Arms windmilling, the figure stumbled forward before catching the side of the gurney for support. The metal bed rattled as it was jerked sideways suddenly and locked wheels screeched across the tile floor. Sitting up and grabbing onto the side to keep from falling off, Dok glared at the intruder as they stood. In the darkness, serrated teeth interlocked into a wide smile in return.

“Hi~,” Winkle sang.

Darting up, she threw out her arms to capture him in a tight, spine-popping hug. Hands pinned to his sides, Dok gasped and tried to wriggle free. Fresh cigarette smoke clung to her hair and clothes, but it didn’t overpower the lingering stench of blood and alcohol on her breath.

“I was bored, sooooo I thought I’d find you, and—” she hiccuped. “—Offer my assistance!”

Winkle rocked them back and forth in her tight embrace in time to some unheard song, cheek rubbing against his. He rolled his eyes.

“At two in the afternoon?” He snipped, and started to struggle as the swaying hold remained. “Winkle, let go!”

Pulling back, she fixed him with a dopey, lopsided smile. Cheeks flushed, glasses askew, and smelling like a bar, Obersturmführer Van Winkle was definitely drunk. Before transforming the soldiers, he hadn’t taken into account that they would still wish to experience human sensations: getting intoxicated was one of them.

Where there was a will, there was a way. The troops had long since figured out how to become inebriated: get their meals dangerously, blackout drunk before feeding. Technically such shenanigans were frowned upon, but the higher up officers would indulge themselves from time to time, and the Major said nothing about their antics.

“Awww~ you don’t mean that, Doktor,” she cooed, clumsily climbing onto the gurney fully clothed.

“No,” he snapped, pushing her away by the shoulder. “Take off your clothes; you smell like an ashtray.”

“So sour,” Winkle pouted and blew a raspberry at him.

Swaying on her feet, she turned around and sat on the edge of the gurney. Back now facing him, Winkle struggled to bend over and untie her shoes. With a yelp, she slipped off the side of the bed and onto the floor with a thud. He sighed again and looked down to see a large, jigsaw grin beaming up at him.

“You’re a mess,” he scolded, shaking his head.

If it had been anyone else, they would have been dead the moment he caught them stumbling around the laboratory door. But that silly, smiling face made stomach clench. Frown deepening, Dok sighed but slapped the cot on the metal bed after beat—come here. She giggled and held out her arms for him to grab. Taking her hands, he helped her stand on shaky legs and sit on the bed.

Placing her feet on the cot, Winkle tucked her knees beneath her chin like a child. Clumsy fingers tried but couldn’t undo the knots in the laces. She grumbled, tongue sticking out her mouth in concentration. Too slow. Pushing her hands away, Dok began to untie the strings.

“Dare I even ask how you end up like this?”

“Ah, ah, ah~ I can’t tell—it’s super secret! I had to learn a handshake and everything!” She giggled.

One shoe fell to the floor, and then the other.

“Uh-huh,” he droned, easily piecing together the clues: the smells that permeated her person, the early morning hour, and the secrecy Winkle was so poor at keeping. “So, Zorin finally invited you to one of her poker nights, then.”

Winkle’s fanged mouth gaped.

“You—No!” She cried, too loud and obvious. His eyebrow arched in challenge. “…Fine, smarty-pants, yes. Aaaand, I had a wonderful time~.”

“Clearly,” he snorted.

Nodding, she began to undo the button of her jacket.

“Well, I mean, I’m terrible at cards. I have no idea how to play poker, but I did well!” She said sloughing the jacket off and throwing it to the floor in a heap. “I mean….I think so? I wasn’t very clear on the whole, rules, thing. Most card games end in a fistfight, right?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Always, if Zorin is present,” he answered.

Winkle hummed and began to pull the pink dress shirt over her head.

“Well, apparently, you’re supposed to…uh, dupe the other players or something—I…I…Dok, help!”

Having forgotten to unbutton the shirt, the material snagged around her shoulders. Giving a muffled curse, she wriggled her arms and almost tipped off the gurney backward, but he grabbed Winkle’s knee to steady her.

“Stop struggling,” he clipped, and she stilled.

Clicking his tongue, Dok shook his head and quickly undid the buttons to free her then tossed the shirt to the floor. Hair wild and glasses almost falling off her blushing face, Winkle fixed him with a wide, girlish smile. Idiot. If it weren’t for the razor teeth, she would have looked exceptionally human at that moment.

“Thank you~,” Winkle beamed and rose to her knees to fumble with her zipper. “Anyway, about halfway through the game, I noticed that Zorin kept closing her right eye whenever she played a hand—weird, right? She looked silly, so I made fun of her, but I guess the other players took it the wrong way,” Winkle continued.

She began to shimmy out of her pants, working the material down the curve of sharp hips.

“Jan called her a cheat, but I don’t know how that’s possible. What, are you not supposed to wink in poker?”

“Hm, sounds like Blitz was using her powers to peek at cards,” Dok noted, gaze trailing down her waist.

“…OHHHH,” Winkle gasped. “Well, I mean, I guess that’s how the game goes? When Zorin yanked Jan out of his seat by the collar, whole buncha cards fell out of his sleeves. I guess she didn’t like the looks of that and drug him out of the room. Günsche pocketed the rest of the chips, and I gave him mine because, well, I’m not sure what to do with them. And he smiled! So I guess that made him happy. He never smiles." she chattered away drunkenly.

Shifting her weight, Winkle leaned on the side of her thigh to slide her pants off the rest of the way. She continued to talk about her evening, but it was hard to concentrate. His eyes followed the curve of her waist and bare legs as she removed the last of her clothing. He noticed the silence and glanced up as a devious smile cut her face. He’d been caught staring.

Winkle leaned forward, putting her chest on display, razor smile growing as he appreciated what she offered. Letting out a laugh, Winkle edged forward more, but the shift made her lose balance.

With a yelp, she tilted forward and landed face-first against his chest, forcing them both back against the cot on the slab with an oof. After laughing herself breathless, Winkle picked her head up and clasped his cheeks in her hands.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she drunkenly apologized, each pause punctuated by a kiss.

The annoyance lining his face faded with each peck. Dok looped his arms around her waist with a sigh in an attempt to secure her. She’d already fallen off the bed once tonight, no need to have a repeat incident.

Winkle gave an appreciative murmur at the embrace and pressed closer, her cool body coming to lay on top of him. Goosebumps rose across his skin as they touched. Her thin hands smoothed down the sides of this face and neck before resting on his shoulders.

It was difficult to be upset with Winkle, especially as wet kisses trailed down the side of his throat. Considering he was both her superior and creator, he shouldn’t be tolerating her drunken behavior, yet it felt almost impossible to say no.

“Careful,” he murmured into her ear.

Warning her to watch secreted teeth as kisses turned into tasting, teasing flicks of her long tongue. She giggled softly in reply, lips closing briefly around his earlobe.

Dok snorted at her antics, though they caused a pleasant fluttering in the pit of his stomach. He pressed his face against the crook of her neck and drew a breath. Although he’d complained about it earlier, the scent of smoke and alcohol that clung to her person wasn’t entirely unappealing. Faintly, it reminded him of the bohemian cabarets he’d attended in his youth with more frequency that he’d ever admit.

Strange hands moved from her waist to squeeze her backside. Winkle uttered an appreciative hum, hips rocking from side to side. She pressed closer, head coming to rest against his shoulder and body curling to conform more comfortably to his boney frame and let out a content sigh.

Vampires felt cool; their bodies were forever at room temperature. Dok found that the undead, at least based of off Winkle’s reactions, enjoyed warmth as she would curl around him in bed like a cat.

Realizing she had been silent for several moments, Dok glanced down at the still from laying on him. Eyes closed, Winkle’s chest didn’t rise. Vampires didn’t need to breathe and slumbered like the dead. Did she just fall asleep ON him?

He picked up Winkle’s wrist and let it go, watching her hand fall limply against his sternum. Dok rolled his eyes at her lack of response.

This wasn’t how he’d expected the day to play out. Well, frankly, being woken up at two in the afternoon by an intoxicated and flirtatious woman hadn’t been planned either, but he thought the encounter would end differently. He looked down at her peaceful, sleeping face. The strange fluttering in his stomach resumed, and his mouth pinched to the side at the feeling. He decided against waking her.

With a careful hand, Dok removed the glasses cutting into her cheek and nose and laid them on the cot beside his head. He shivered as the coolness of her undead body leached his warmth away. Had the evening progressed as he’d come to assume, she would have been warmed by their activities. Now, he had to come up with a new remedy.

Feeling blindly around the cot, he found the sheet and pulled it over them, stopping at Winkle’s shoulder. Wrapping thin arms around her, he rubbed her back and arms, attempting to raise her body to a more human temperature.

It must have worked. When his alarm went off at sunset, Dok woke to find that they were still in each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> *Going through old writing and moving works from dumblr  
> *Gift for my girlfriend for Valentine's Day 2017  
> *Decided to make this and all other Dok/Winkle fics I've created as their own series. These fics feel different than some of the other's I've written, though all are loosely based off of FIAGD.  
> * Art is from the lovely and talented @pennycats on Tumblr, for whom this fic is for.


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